You're Hired
by Lemniscate35173
Summary: Mafalda Hopkirk's interview at the Ministry of Magic. "You are applying for the Improper Use of Magic Office, correct?"


**I don't own Harry Potter**

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Mafalda Hopkirk walked into the Ministry of Magic at precisely eight-thirty in the morning. She smoothed her skirt down anxiously as she waited in the Atrium. Mafalda was a small halfblooded woman who was rather easily missed, especially in a crowd as large as the one in the Atrium was. Her hazel eyes and blonde-brown didn't set her out in anyway, and the high heels she was wearing didn't add much to her rather unimpressive height of five-foot-four-inches. She didn't have a big personality, and was usually quite happy to blend into the background, except for on days like this one. Today she quite wished she had some trait that would make her stand out, whether it would be an energetic personality or glamorous looks, just something.

Today was the Day, as Mafalda thought of it in her mind. Today was the day that she was going to get a job at the Ministry of Magic. You see, Mafalda had always dreamed of working for the Ministry of Magic, just like her parents. Her father had been an Auror, her mother a researcher for the Committee for Experimental Charms. A quick look at her OWLs had squashed any ambitions she had of following in her parents' footsteps, in terms of their exact careers at the very least. She had only gotten an A in both her Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms OWLs, but she had excelled in Transfiguration and had a knack for Magical Theory. Still, she had not given up on her childhood dream of working at the Ministry, a dream that had intensifies in the past month since the death of her parents. So, she had decided to apply to the Improper Use of Magic Office.

Her interview was for the office was today. The Ministry's owl had said that an assistant from the office would meet her in the Atrium at and take her to her interview. She had arrived at eight-thirty, because it was always better to be early when it came to job interviews, according to the various relatives whom she had asked for advice. She stood by the fountain in hopes that is would make her easier to find in the crowded room.

"Hello," Someone said from behind her. Mafalda jumped nervously. She turned around on her thin high heels, almost losing her balance in the process. Some of her hair flew out of its tightly arraigned bun. An unremarkable woman was holding a clipboard. There was a small smile on her face. "Are you Mafalda Hopkirk?" She asked.

"Yes," Mafalda squeaked.

"I'll be taking you to the interview rooms." The woman said, spun around smartly, and began walking. Mafalda followed. They went into one of the tightly packed lifts. The sound of a woman's voice sounded out of the speakers, but the lift was so loud she couldn't make out any words. The employees obviously could, as they stepped out and in whenever it stopped. After three various stops, in which they went down, up and sideways, the woman stepped out of the lift. Mafalda elbowed her way after her.

The woman twisted her way down various hallways. As she peeked in the doorways, Mafalda could see the various goings on of the Ministry. Some wizards were waving their wands at what looked like a walrus with tusks that corkscrewed around its head. A young wizard with glasses was writing diligently on a piece of parchment. Witches were magically folding thousands of paper cranes. Mafalda wondered where they were going.

They stopped at the end of a corridor a considerable distance from the lifts. The woman opened the door with a wave of her wand. The inside of the room was quite plain, with a desk, two chairs, one in front of it, one behind it, and a clock on the wall, which were a pale beige. "You can wait here. Your interview will begin shortly." The woman told Mafalda. She smiled at Mafalda once more, and left the room, her clipboard still clutched tightly to her chest.

Mafalda sat down in the chair in front of the desk. She looked around the room. There was nothing there but the desk, the chairs and the clock, which seemed to be taking forever to move from one minute to the next. Mafalda attacked a loose thread on her skirt, a hand-me-down from her mother's days as a conditional assistant researcher, which she had told Mafalda was nothing more than a glorified tea runner. The minute hands were moving even slower now. Each tick of the second hand seemed like it could've fit a minute into it. She rang her hands anxiously in her lap.

After a few more minutes of focusing on her pounding heart, Mafalda began to relax. Slowly the lethargy of boredom began to set in. The ticks of the second hand felt like hours now. Mafalda studied the room again. She counted the ceiling tiles. She studied the plain, grey carpet. She knew was getting bored, and she hadn't even gotten the job yet. Mafalda sighed and started counting the ceiling tiles again.

A man with greying, curly back hair and blue eyes entered the room. He was wearing glasses that were slowly sliding down his nose. He too had a clipboard. He sat down in the chair behind the desk, across from Mafalda. He surveyed this clipboard for a few more moments and looked up. "You are Mafalda Hopkirk, correct?" He asked her. His voice was very official sound, Mafalda thought.

"Indeed." She answered back crisply.

"Hmm," He said as her continued to study his clipboard. His glasses slipped almost all the way down his nose. "Hmm, interesting." He looked up again. "You are applying for the Improper Use of Magic Office, correct?"

"Yes, I am." She responded.

"Excellent," The man replied, "I'll send for one of the assistant department heads immediately. They're always short-staffed this time of year." Before Mafalda could raise an objection, or even ask a question, the man left the room. Mafalda sighed and slouched in her chair, preparing for the onslaught of boredom that was sure to be coming.

To Mafalda's great relief, it was only a few minutes before another man entered the room, by which time she had counted that there were 143 and a half ceiling tiles in the room for the fourth time that day. This man had black hair and blue eyes as well. His hair didn't show signs of beginning to grey anytime soon, and while his stature marked him as around thirty, his face looked like it was around twenty-one.

"Richard said you were applying for the Improper Use of Magic Office, right?" He asked. His voice didn't sound as youthful as his face looked, adding to the impression he was not as young as his face made him out to be.

"That is correct." Mafalda said.

"You've obviously met the qualifications if you're here. Can you work the entire week?" He questioned.

"Even Easter?" She asked breaking the professional façade she was attempting to keep up.

"Yes. Can you?" He said.

Mafalda thought back to all the fond Easter dinners she had spent with her parents. Still, with them being gone now, she supposed it would be good to have a distraction instead of just wallowing around the house all day, depressed. "Yes, I can." Mafalda replied.

"Wonderful," The man replied, standing up from behind the desk, "You're hired. I'm your new assistant department head, John. Your shift starts now. Is that all good?"

"That's" Mafalda said shocked, "That's terrific, absolutely marvelous. Thank you."

"The department's this way." John said, opening the door. Mafalda hurried after him, anxious to get to her new job.


End file.
